Otherwise Engaged
by thatTWWgirl
Summary: This title is not nearly as clever as I like to think it is. Josh speaks now, for he's never been good at holding his peace.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, fellow travelers on this grand Mariokart's-Rainbow-Road-esque journey we call life! What-ho, my good chaps!**

**This is a little thing I've started, that I'm interested in pursuing it if you all are interested in reading it. **

**Go on and admonish me for starting another story, what with the fact that I've already got a million other things to work on. I deserve it, and have appropriately punished myself already_. "Bad Dobby!"_**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this mildly angsty thing, set mid season 5(ish).**

**Rating: T**

**Reviews: Oh, you know I'm an attention-seeking little bugger. My reviewers are my loves.**

**Disclaimer: I henceforth proclaim that I do not own any of these characters. I mean, who'd want 'em, anyway? So lame. I don't even like them. That's why I write about them so frequently.**

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxxXxXxXxXxXxXx

"You're not being very helpful, you know."

"Hmm?" He jerks upright, guiltily breaking his train of thought. He smiles dryly. "To be honest, I'm having trouble remembering what I was supposed to be doing."

She pouts indignantly. "You're _supposed_ to be double-checking the guest list."

"Why?"

"Invites go out this month, and I want to make sure I've got everyone."

He gazes down at the paper in his hand for the first time since she'd delegated it to him. "You put the President on the list?"

She shrugs. "I put a question mark."

"The President can't just show up to the wedding. It's not that easy. There's gotta be secret service, a huge venue, people vetting the guests..."

"I _know_ that." She mutters, looking down at the carpet. "But... He told me he wanted to come."

His expression softens. "I'm sure that he does, Donna."

She smiles slightly. "Okay. It was stupid. Any other problems with the list?"

"I, uhh, don't think so." He doesn't recognize half the names.

"Okay. Do you want to look at color schemes?"

He groans, sinking back against the couch cushions. "Why did I agree to this?"

She looks up at him with a quaint smile. "Because you love me."

He opens his eyes tentatively. She's looked away from him already, a testament to the fact that she'd made the comment in passing. Her hair shades her face in a golden curtain, and she's sprawled awkwardly on the carpet, gazing with undue intensity at what could very well be napkin samples. There's a faint, purplish ink smudge under her left eye.

He has trouble disagreeing.

Josh clears his throat. "Still. I mean, I didn't have anything better to do?"

She peers back up at him absently. "Obviously not."

"That's pretty sad."

"Yeah." Her hair swings back with a flourish as she raises herself to her knees. She shuffles toward him with a card in hand. "Hey, tell me what you think of this calligraphy."

"Donna, I really don't know shit about calligraphy-" he whines even as he allows her to hold it up for his viewing. She props her elbows on his knees, waiting expectantly for his feedback on the menial detail.

"I, umm, it looks good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, very..."

"Classic? Sophisticated?"

"Those were precisely the words that came to mind."

She rolls her eyes, knowing that he's just humoring her. "Okay."

"They go out next week?"

"Yeah, they gave me a lot of samples, so I just have to decide on one and they'll print them all out."

"Okay."

"I think I like this one."

"Okay."

With a hand on the coffee table, she raises herself off the ground and flops down beside him on the couch. She holds the sample invitation at arms length, admiring it. "Don't the names just look lovely?"

Josh stays silent, not sure if he can mindlessly give her affirmations any longer. He stares at the names, coupled together that way, and his chest aches. He tries to summon his usual strength to give a sarcastic reply, _Yeah, Donna. Just lovely_.

But in his tired haze, the smell of fresh-printed bridal magazines rising up in mocking around him, her shoulder pressed against his... He can't summon anything but the truth.

"It should be me."

Her excitement falters, her outstretched arms dropping just an inch. "I... What?"

To his surprise, he has no inclination to retract the statement. "It should be me. You should be marrying me."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

3 months prior.

_"Hey, Josh."_

_"Hey." He doesn't look up from his computer screen at her greeting, expecting her to have just poked her head in for a moment upon arrival. It's only after he feels her presence lingering in the doorway some thirty seconds later that he glances over at her. "You need something?"_

_"Oh, no, I just..." She closes her eyes for a moment, the barest flicker of anxiety. When she opens them, it's with a cheerful smile. "I brought you some coffee."_

_"You... What?" He swivels his chair around, wondering if he'd heard correctly._

_"Yeah." Not looking at him, she sets the offering carefully on his desk. It's not crappy office coffee, either, it's from the shop down the street._

_"Okay, what's going on here?"_

_"Oh, nothing, I just thought I'd... It's no big deal." She shifts uncertainly from foot to foot. He notices that she's still wearing her coat and purse; she hadn't even stopped by her desk yet._

_"Yes, it is."_

_"No, it isn't."_

_"Is too."_

_"I'm just being nice, Josh."_

_"Yeah, that's pretty suspicious."_

_She glares at him. "Very funny."_

_"I thought so." A slight smirk of superiority begins to form on his face, and he reaches out to take the cup. "Thanks, though."_

_"No problem."_

_It's as he takes his first sip that he remembers. The coffee tastes more bitter, suddenly. "Oh, how was your thing last night?"_

_"It was great." She says immediately. Her cheeks take on a tinge of red, and she's still not looking at him. He realizes that she'd been waiting for him to ask. "It was really great."_

_"That's good." He says, as nonchalantly as he can manage. "How's Scott?"_

_"He's great." She replies quickly. "He's really great."_

_"Donna?"_

_"Mm?"_

_"Has your vast vocabulary suddenly contracted to the words __**really**__ and __**great**__?"_

_"He proposed." She blurts out suddenly. "He, uhh... Scott proposed."_

_It takes a moment for this information to sink in. It feels almost as though someone has put his stomach inside a barrel and then dropped it off a cliff; he braces himself for the jagged rocks below. "He... What?"_

_She bites her lip nervously. Her eyes, shining, betray the smallest glimpse of happiness. "Scott proposed last night, after dinner."_

_His mind reverts to the usual defenses, his heart hiding somewhere behind them. "Well, Great Scott!"_

_A slight smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Yeah, I... It was pretty surprising."_

_He seizes on this. "Yeah. You guys haven't been dating that long, can't believe he'd pull that one out so soon."_

_He can't see her left hand. It's in her coat pocket._

_She narrows her eyes. "It's been a year, Josh."_

_"It... Has?" It can't possibly have been that long. It was only yesterday that she'd been dancing so __**close**__ to him at the inaugural ball, that he'd been so sure if he just did **something**, did **anything**... She needs to move her hand._

_"Yes, Josh." She sounds annoyed now. "I told you, we were going out last night to celebrate our anniversary."_

_But he hadn't done anything. He couldn't make himself move, couldn't uproot years of dancing at greater distances, couldn't risk the idea that he might be the only one hearing the music._

_"I mean, but still." He back pedals lamely. "A year is still a pretty short time, don't you think? Poor guy's getting ahead of himself."_

_"A year is a pretty long time. Some people get married after three months." She juts her chin out challengingly. She'd moved her hand; her arms are crossed now. Had he missed it? He feels sick._

_"Yeah, but do you know what kind of divorce rates those people have, Donna?" He shakes his head scornfully, standing and brushing past her._

_"Well, then it's good he waited a year. Where are you going?"_

_"I, uhh, need to see Sam." No he doesn't._

_"He's not in yet."_

_"I'll talk to Toby about it, then."_

_"A year is a long time, Josh."_

_"It's really not. You need more time to get to know each other." He roots through the filing cabinet with the utmost conviction._

_"I don't think you're the best judge of my relationship, Joshua Lyman."_

_"I'm just sayin'..."_

_"I wasn't asking your permission." Her voice is deadly cold. He doesn't turn around._

_"Great, I wasn't giving it."_

_"I said yes, Josh."_

_"You did?"_

_"I did."_

_He ceases to move before eventually turning to face her. Her arms are limp at her sides, much like his. On her left hand, a diamond ring laughs at him in the bright bullpen lights._

_"You, uhh... You've thought about it?"_

_She purses her lips, gaze falling to the floor. "Why can't you just be happy for me?"_

_His arrogance falls fast. This is Donna, this is his best friend, this is... This is the woman that he loves. He closes the distance between them in three strides, pulling her roughly into a hug._

_"I am. I'm sorry. I am."_

_"Okay." She replies in a small voice, unconvinced._

_"You know I just want you to be happy."_

_Her taut form loosens a fraction, and her arms wrap around him. "Okay."_

_"He's a lucky guy, Donna."_

_"Thank you."_

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxxxXxxxXx

It's only after what he guesses is about a minute of silence that he steals a glance at her. She's chewing her lip, brow furrowed.

"Donna-"

"Don't." She shakes her head slightly. "Just... Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't do this, okay?"

"Don't do what?" He's not trying to be a prick, he really isn't. He's just so utterly unsure, he's trying to find some modicum of safe ground to plant his feet on.

She rises from the couch quickly, not looking at him. "We'll just pretend you never said anything, and-"

"I don't want to pretend that-"

"Well, tough!" She raises her voice suddenly, heat rising in her face. She takes a deep breath, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You don't know what you're saying."

He stands as well, indignant. "I know _exactly_ what I'm saying, Donna, and if you think I haven't-"

She merely shakes her head again, almost frantically. "You don't know. You have no idea. You're tired, you're-"

"I'm thinking pretty damn clearly, actually. I'm not pretending that I never said that, because it's just about the only thing I've said about your bloody wedding that I actually mean."

The silence sits heavily.

"So... You don't like the calligraphy?"

He looks at her incredulously. "You're making jokes right now?"

She shrugs plaintively. "Better than crying."

"Why would you..." He trails off, before deciding to play along. "I like the calligraphy fine, Donna."

"Well... that's good." She replies helplessly, looking very much like a toy boat on the open sea. These were uncharted waters.

"It's the name next to yours that I've got a problem with."

"Is it misspelled?"

"Donna-"

"_Don't_." She crosses her arms, drawing quick, shallow breaths. "Stop it, Josh, don't finish another thought. I'm getting married, _to Scott_, in six months. I don't want to hear it, okay?"

"Would you prefer I wait until the minister says _speak now or forever hold your peace? _Because I will, if it'll float your boat. Might be a tad bit of a press debacle, but-"

"I would've preferred you'd said it when I was single!" She shouts back. Realizing her mistake, she back pedals rapidly. "I mean, I wish you hadn't said it all, but-"

"If I'd said it before, would you be marrying Scott?"

"That's not the point!" She glares back. "I'm getting married to a man that loves me, I'm happy, I'm committed, and the notion that you could just swoop in and make me abandon all that-"

"That's not what I-"

"Contrary to what I'm sure you've concocted in that twisted mind of yours, you aren't the _be all end all of my life,_ Josh, and I'm not about to drop everything just because you think you've had some sort of revelation!"

He stands there, watching her shout, and all he can feel is a dull ache in center of his chest. Could this have gone more badly? "It's not, a, umm, revelation."

"What?"

"It's not a revelation. I've been in love with you for a long time."

"God dammit, Josh! Can you hear yourself? I'm engaged. _I'm engaged_."

"So, the time constraint for me to get my shit together became a bit more prevalent-"

"Well, you missed it. The deadline. You're too late."

"Donna-"

"We're done here. It never happened."

"But-"

"_Forget it."_

Flustered, Donna turns and begins haphazardly stacking the bridal magazines and various other wedding planning paraphernalia that she'd had spread around her. Josh stands stock still, wondering how irreparably he'd broken them this time. He attempts to hold it together with his bare hands.

"I'm sorry."

Body going rigid, she pauses. It's a moment before she unfreezes, letting out a low sigh. "For what?"

He catches a faint smile aimed in his direction, albeit a tad forced. She's accepted the olive branch.

"Hey, Donna? You here?"

Neither of them had noticed the door opening.

"Yeah, in the living room!" She calls out, turning to Josh wordlessly. He's almost certain that he sees something like guilt in her eyes.

"Hey, baby."

Scott's voice makes Josh cringe, and he turns his head uncomfortably as he kisses the woman he'd confessed his love to not five minutes prior.

"Oh, hey Josh." Scott tilts his head at him quizzically.

"Scott." He dips his head in greeting, and doesn't raise it as he heads for the door. "I was, just, uhh, leaving."

"Oh, well it's good to see you."

"Yeah, yeah, I'd stay, but..."

"Subcommittee on foreign oil tomorrow." Donna supplies easily. Josh pauses in the living room doorway, looking at her. He watches her wide eyes, her hand on his arm. "That's what we were working on."

"Sounds important."

"Oh, important and weighty and all those other arduous things that we do in the White House." Josh waves a hand dismissively. "I'll see you around, Scott."

"You too, Josh."

He heads for the front door.

"Josh?" Her voice comes out with the sheerest amount of desperation, which he might not have noticed had he not turned to look at her seconds later.

"Yeah?"

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here we are, part two! After all of the feedback, I was pretty much obliged. Not to mention that I'm rather invested by now, too ;)**

**Reviews: Yes please! Thanks so much for encouraging me to continue, you guys.**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. If only.**

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxxxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXxXxXxXXxXxxXxxXxxXx

Josh sits pensively at his desk, staring at the wall opposite as though it might offer him answers. It does not. Perhaps there's work he should be doing, vitally important work, but he can't muster the energy. He can't shake the feeling that the matter he contemplates is more important; that it might just be the only thing that really matters.

When she walks into his office, ten minutes late (unheard of for Donna Moss), it's with a quick stride and determined expression.

"Good morning, Joshua."

He doesn't reply, merely watching her eyes. They meet his for a fraction of an instant, but betray nothing.

"I brought you some coffee."

Detached, he watches her place the steaming cup on his desk and move on, unearthing files and depositing his phone messages.

"Thanks."

She looks up in surprise. "I... You're welcome."

But the moment of hesitation is gone, and features set once more, she beats a hasty retreat out of his office.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Donna works at her desk all morning. Perhaps this sedentary method was a bit unusual for her, but she spends the time efficiently returning emails. All the while, her eyes stray absently to the photo of her and Scott, displayed prominently beside her computer. And then, if she let herself look too long, they'd slide to the frame beside it, a smaller print of the senior staff at the inaugural ball. To Josh.

And there it was.

Donna Moss was a woman with her life together. For all the years she'd spent working a dead end job to put an asshole through med school, for all the years she'd been unlucky in love and unhappy at heart, she had come a long way.

She was intelligent, and she was capable. She excelled at her job, which was admittedly a bit below her skill set, but hey, she worked in the White House. And, as Leo would say, "everything else is crap." Nothing could compare to that undying feeling of excitement, of patriotism and love and awe and the million other things that coursed through her blood on a daily basis.

Her personal life was in immaculate order. She had a tight knit circle of friends, she called her mother every Sunday, and her self worth was higher than it had been in more than ten years. She was engaged to a handsome, kind man who worked a steady job as a family lawyer on the outskirts or DC. He loved her. He respected her. He wasn't even a Republican.

But could she be happy? Grateful, and satisfied with her perfect life? No. And why not, you might ask? Because of one Joshua Lyman.

The man ruined everything.

He was a human disaster, and no matter how hard she might try to escape the collateral damage of his existence, she couldn't seem to keep her distance.

There was something about him; something... All consuming. Maybe she'd been in love with him by the time they took office, maybe she hadn't. The details blur. They were friends, they were more than friends, they were seeing other people, they were always something more than boss and assistant. She had a tight knit circle of friends, but then she had Josh. And that was something different altogether.

Perhaps she decided that it was unrequited, perhaps she decided that work would always get in the way, perhaps she just moved on. The details blur.

She'd tell you her best friend was CJ, but no one knew her like he did. She didn't know anyone else like she knew him. They spent more time together than they did apart; more with each other than with anyone else. It was a closeness that came about so naturally, it was easy to love him. There was really no other option.

She settled for friendship, told herself that's what she wanted. She reconciled the fact that she'd never felt like this before; soulmates wasn't necessarily a romantic term.

They were just friends. Friends that fell asleep on each other on Air Force one, that had keys to each other's apartments, friends that knew everything about each other. Friends with inside jokes, with practically their own language, friends that spent friday nights together for no good reason. Friends with playful banter, with near constant physical contact, with few boundaries of any kind.

Most people didn't really understand. But the two of them weren't most people.

As if on cue, Josh chooses this moment to walk in. He walks slowly, purposefully toward her, hands in his pockets. Her poor friend; so confused. Most people didn't understand them, and it was troubling that he was leaning toward thinking like most people. He'd come around. He always did. This was just another odd moment in a very long series of odd moments.

He drops a file on her desk, her Texan energy report from earlier this morning. "I have a problem."

"With the report?" She furrows her brow.

"No, it's... It's good. You did well." He shifts from side to side slowly.

"Then... What's wrong?"

"This."

"What?"

"You. Me."

She smiles, standing and taking the report to the filing cabinet. "Well, there's been something wrong with you for quite some time, Joshua, I hate to break it to you."

"Stop it." The tone in his voice causes her to turn, and the unmasked pain in his eyes sends a shiver down her spine. "Please, stop it."

"Josh, I-"

"We played a good game for six years, I'll give you that, but I'm not playing anymore. I'm out."

"You're... Out?" Dread wells up inside of her. Was he done with her completely? Casting her aside, throwing out everything they had?

"I'm serious. I'm sick of pretending, and I'm sick of denying."

"Okay." She says slowing, processing. He stands stock still, watching her. "So you're...?"

"I'm in love with you." He says simply, punctuating this claim with a casual shrug.

Alarm flares within her. "Keep your voice down!" She whispers worriedly, eyes scanning the room for possible witnesses.

He smiles stiffly. "Don't tell me where to keep my voice."

She rolls her eyes. He was choosing now of all times to remind her of that night? "Josh, I can't do this, okay? I can't fight you on this, I can't let this blow up, I can't... I just can't, okay?"

She can hear the pleading in her tone. She can't do this. She can't lose him to this.

He leans against one of the wooden beams framing her desk. "Okay."

"Oh...Kay? Yes? You'll drop it?"

"I don't want to fight either. And I don't want to upset you, I love you, remember?"

She sighs through gritted teeth. "This isn't funny, Josh."

"Who said I was joking?"

"I can't do this."

"You don't have much choice. Because I'm not playing anymore, Donna."

And with that, he turns and stalks back into his office. She jumps a moment later when he shouts over his shoulder "And could you get me the notes on the desalination section of the water bill?"

So. This is how things were going to be from now on.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxxXxxXxXxXxXxXx

"I set up for you to see congressman Tandy at one."

"Okay. That it?"

"James from policy is going to send over a brief on the specifics sometime before then."

"Thanks. Iloveyou."

"Hm?"

He looks up from his folder, deadpan. "What?"

"You said something."

"I said 'thanks'?"

"After that."

"Oh. I love you."

Her eyes widen. "You... Oh."

She stumbles out of his office, wishing her heart would quit thumping so loudly. It really was quite distracting from the anger she should be feeling.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Josh strolls idly past Donna's desk. His hands are deep in his pockets, as they always are when he's trying hard to act casual.

"Those are nice flowers."

She looks up suspiciously. "Yeah."

"Scott?"

"Mm."

"What's the occasion?"

She shifts uncomfortably in her chair, trying vainly not to look up at him. "Four months since I said yes."

"That's... Nice."

"Mmhmm."

"How's the wedding planning going?"

She tucks away a strand of hair. "Good."

"Yeah? And here I would've thought it'd fall through the cracks without my weekly expertise."

She tenses. "You hated wedding planning."

"This is true."

"And I thought that without the pretense, there wasn't much cause to ask for your assistance anymore."

"No, you're right. That would be insanely inappropriate."

"I..."

"Seeing as I'm in love with you."

She sighs, turning a page of the memo she'd been reading up until the moment he'd wondered over with that distinct gleam in his eye. "Here we go again."

"Am I bothering you?"

"Now that you mention it, yes. I have work to do, and the more you say that, the more-"

"I'd stop if you just rejected me."

"I'm... What?"

"All this time, you haven't given me a clear answer. Just tell me you haven't thought about it, that you don't feel the same way... I'll stop."

"You're incredibly irritating, you know?"

"I do know."

"I'm sure that I've-"

"You haven't."

"I haven't?"

"You say 'cut it out'. You say 'that's not funny', or 'I can't do this', or 'I'm engaged', but not once have you said 'I don't love you back'."

"...I thought it was implied?"

"It wasn't."

"Well..."

"So if you'd care to make things clear, I mean-"

"I can't do this."

"Ah! Here we go again!"

"That's my line."

"Just tell me you don't love me. It's that simple."

"It's not that simple."

"It is."

"Could you get out of my cubicle?"

"Sure thing." Smiling to himself slightly, he moves from where he'd been leaning against her desk and heads back to his office. "I love you."

"You're just not getting it, okay? I don't have to say any of the magic words, I don't have to reject you, I'm _engaged_. I'm committed to spending the rest of my life with another person. And none of this changes that."

"That's romantic. A couple years down the line, you let me know how your husband feels about the fact that you can't deny you've got feelings for someone else. Let me know how your commitment is working out then."

"It's not that I can't deny it-"

"It's that you won't?"

"...It's not that simple."

"It is that simple!"

"Weren't you heading back to your office?"

"I've never heard you say that you love him, you know. I've never heard you say that you love him, and I've never heard you say that you don't love me, so there really isn't much that I know about your take on the situation except for the fact that _it's not that simple."_

She opens her mouth incredulously. "I want to marry Scott, okay? I think I've made that much clear."

"You've made it clear that you want to get married, but I'm not sure the poor guy's even part of the equation."

She stands, eyes flashing. "You don't know what you're talking about, Josh. You don't know as much as you'd like to think you do, and you can't just accuse me of leading on the man I've promised to spend my life with! That's not fair. That's not fair, and you know it."

He glares right back. "Is it any less fair than leading on your best friend?"

Her indignation fades. She stares back blankly, utterly unsure of herself. This was the first time he'd ever referred to himself as her best friend. And try as she might to hate him for it, he wasn't entirely wrong.

"It's not that simple." She pleads, voice breaking.

He shoves his hands back in his pockets, strolling back toward his office. "Okay. Fine. It's fucking complicated, if that's what you want."

XxXxXxxxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

"You look nice, by the way."

"Thanks, babe." Donna replies with an absent smile. She tucks her hand gently through Scott's arm as they enter the swanky gala, looking around almost skittishly.

"I'm glad you brought me to this. You don't usually take me to work events."

Her smile becomes a bit tense. "They're usually pretty boring... nothing you'd enjoy. But I wanted you as my date tonight."

"Any particular reason?"

"Mm? Oh. No." She's scanned the room, but there's no sign of Josh. "I just wanted to spend time with you."

Scott grins indulgently. "I'm arm candy for the evening?"

She pulls her attention away from the crowd, and back to her fiancé. She gives him a flirty smile. "It's your sole purpose, sweetie."

"That's a blow to my self esteem."

"I'm sure you'll recover."

"Dubious." Scott smiles at her. She tries to keep her focus on their conversation, as he seems to be doing so effortlessly, but it's a bit of a struggle. In truth, she'd brought him along tonight because she didn't want to spend the evening alone with Josh. Not that he'd pull anything, of course, but he'd... be there. And, in part the reason why she wouldn't usually invite Scott, this was_ their_ time. To joke, and laugh, discuss the week. To dance, and tag team obnoxious bureaucrats.

Tonight, the White House was putting on a celebration of the President's successful trip to China. CJ had thought it important to display the strength of his actions, given the news of his relapse. Donna wouldn't miss it for the world, of course, but she just didn't feel prepared to spend an evening remembering all of the reasons why she couldn't simply reject her boss. Given the tumultuous state of their relationship, she could easily say or do something that would send it all to hell in a handbasket. In which direction, she wasn't sure.

So here she was, hiding from her problems, behind her boyfriend.

"Hey, guys."

She jumps at his voice behind them, and is quickly thereafter outraged at this display of weakness. Damn. He'd snuck up on them.

"Hey, Josh, how are you?"

Scott, seemingly unphased by his fiancée's massive jolt against him, reaches out a hand to Josh. Josh accepts it, giving him a wide smile.

"I'm great, Scott. You?"

"Not bad. As ever, overwhelmed at being here." Scott smiles, awestruck eyes roaming to where the Secretary of State is ordering a martini.

Josh grins. "It doesn't go away."

_How dare he be polite and charming? In a tuxedo? _This was going to be worse than anticipated.

"Aren't you supposed to be schmoozing Dwyer?" She reminds him subtly, a forced smile on her face.

He waves a hand dismissively. "Not here yet."

"Talking to Rubio, then?"

"Called him earlier."

"Relax, Donna." Scott chuckles. "C'mon, it's a party. Gotta let yourself out of the office, sometimes."

Josh smiles. "Yeah, Donna. Live a little."

_Okay. On what planet have we landed?_

"I'd let myself out of the office now and again if Josh didn't have me practically tethered, sweetheart." There. See how he liked it when she threw in the pet names. His calm demeanor flickers for the barest second, the corner of his mouth twitching downward.

"Ah, well, if he can take a break, you can too. Are you here with anyone, Josh?"

Josh's smile is back in full force. "No, fraid not."

"You seeing anyone?"

"Me? Nah, not for a while now."

"Being tethered to his office doesn't leave him much time for such trivial things as a personal life, sadly."

"Hey, well, maybe you'll meet someone here. You never know." Scott suggests genially.

Josh nods without conviction. "Maybe."

Donna smiles coolly, looking around the foyer. "Lots of beautiful women here, Joshua."

He turns his gaze solely to her, for the first time that night. Her brittle demeanor falters momentarily under his unnerving stare. "I'm aware, Donnatella."

He holds her gaze, and a blush creeps up her neck of its own accord. She attempts a stern expression, but doubts it comes off as such.

Scott coughs uncomfortably, confused as to the source of the tension that had just entered their conversation. "How bout I go get us all some drinks? What do you guys want?"

"White wine."

"Red."

"Got it." He strolls away, trailing his fingertips across her shoulders. In his absence, Donna turns toward the center of the room uncomfortably, avoiding Josh's eyes.

"...You look good."

"I know."

"Ah-kay." He rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, still smiling irritatingly. "I look good too, by the way."

"Mm."

"You'd know if you bothered to look at me."

"As appealing a prospect as that is, I'm people watching."

"I'm a person."

"Barely."

"Ha. You're hilarious, Moss."

"I come by the gift naturally."

"You don't have to look so scared, ya know. I'm not gonna blow your cover."

"Blow my cover?"

"Ya know. Of being happily engaged."

"Ha. You're hilarious, Lyman."

"I come by the gift naturally."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't worry, it's not like I'll say anything in front of Scott."

"Good of you."

"Or declare my love for you again."

"I think you just did."

"Barely."

She takes a deep breath in through her nose, pursing her lips. "This is why I brought Scott."

"And here I thought you enjoyed his company."

"I do enjoy his company."

"He's a swell guy."

"He _is_ a swell guy, Josh."

"...I just said that."

"It sounded a tad sarcastic."

"Hardly. I like Scott. He's...swell."

"He _is_ swell."

"We seem to be going in circles, here, Donnatella."

"I'm just agreeing with you. Savor it, it doesn't happen often."

He smirks. "Okay, fine." His voice takes on a robust, old-timey quality. "Scott is a right, fine fellow. Utterly stand-up and _swell_."

She can't contain a small chuckle at this, shoulders shaking a little with what she does manage to hold back. He raises his eyebrows at her, smiling with satisfaction.

"I wish you wouldn't do this."

"Do what?"

"You know."

"Make you laugh?"

"Yes. It's incredibly annoying."

"Ah-kay. Are you enjoying the party?"

"Are you?"

"I asked first."

"I don't know."

"Me either."

"Mm. Confidence inspiring."

"The First Lady is speaking in a while. Should be good."

"Did she write her own speech?"

"Yeah. Wouldn't let Toby near it with a ten-foot-stick."

Donna smiles. "I love it when she does that."

Josh watches her out of the corner of his eye, both of them still facing forward. "Me too."

"Do you think you'll be okay with Dwyer? I can help out, if you want."

"Ye of little faith, Donna."

"I'm just saying, you can be a bit..."

"Honest?"

"Unnecessarily inflammatory. But when it comes to you, there's really no distinction."

"That's not true."

"Sure it is."

"I can be a little abrasive, I guess, but-"

"Like when declaring your love for a woman who works for you. Most men would stop after the initial statement, but oh, not you, Joshua. You can't seem to let something rest until it's_ blown up_ in one fashion or another." She doesn't watch his reaction, taking a stiff breath as she watches Scott embark on his trek back to them.

Josh's eyes harden. He ponders her statement, scuffing the floor with his shoe. "And what would you have done? Let it go unconfronted; shoved under the rug for years to come?"

She looks down at her hands, twisting her engagement ring. "No. I'm just saying, there's a way to be honest, without being inflammatory."

"How's that?"

"Like this." She says delicately. In one fluid motion, she turns to face him, chin high, and drops her arms to her sides. Her eyes are wide and clear; face open and afraid.

She takes one shallow breath, voice coming out in a near whisper. "I love you too."

Shock is written across his entire person. After a moment, he looks about wildly, as if searching for a witness. "I-"

"See? And that's that." She clenches her jaw, turning determinedly to look back out across the room.

Josh opens his mouth incredulously. "I'd say that's pretty inflammatory."

She doesn't answer.

"Alright! White wine for my lovely fiancée, red for her supposed slavedriver of a boss, and champagne for me. Did I miss much?"

Donna, having jumped in much the same way as she had at Josh's arrival, whips around to face Scott with a bright smile. She reaches up casually to wipe at her eyes. "Not a thing, sweetheart. Thank you."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXXxXxXXxxXxXxXxXxXXxXxXxXxXxXxXxxx

"Come in!"

Donna shuffles awkwardly into the room, shutting the door behind her. "It's me."

"What's up, Donna?" Leo doesn't bother to look up, examining a memo from behind his spectacles.

"Could, I, umm... Could I sit down?"

"Sure thing." He mutters absently. It's only after a minute of silence that he peers up at the woman before him, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. He furrows his brow. "What's wrong, kid?"

"I have, umm. I have a favor to ask."

"What's that?"

"And I know that you are in no way obligated to consider this, or to acquiesce to my request. But I thought I'd ask you, because while it's not a gravely important issue, it's become a bit of-"

"Donna." Leo interrupts, rubbing at his forehead. "Donna, what is it?"

"I'd like to be transferred." She blurts out. Upon the words leaving her mouth, she shuts her eyes tightly, as though afraid of them.

"I'm sorry?"

After a moment, she opens her eyes timidly, and watches Leo's confused expression. She starts again, speaking slowly and deliberately. "I'd like to be transferred to another position, Leo. I can't work for Josh anymore."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey everyone! I hope you've all had a good couple weeks. I'm eternally grateful for all of the reviews I've received on this story. Without further ado, here's chapter three! I hope you guys enjoy.**

***Disclaimer and Rating still apply***

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXXxxXXxXxXxXxXxXxxxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

_You must remember this_

_A kiss is still a kiss_

_A sigh is still a sigh_

_The fundamental things apply_

_As time goes by_

"Why?"

"Personal reasons."

Leo, trying to be understanding about a situation which he'd been provided very few details of, had granted Donna's request. Luckily, there'd been a need in the White House Council's Office, and she'd stepped in as their "legislative assistant." This meant that she ran back and forth between the Council's Office (which was thankfully not located, in it's entirety, in the steam pipe trunk distribution venue), the policy team, and the hill, discussing questions of constitutionality and other legalities of impending policy.

Her job occasionally brought her into contact with Josh, as he managed so much of the White House's legislation. She was polite but distant, at first, as though their closeness had disappeared overnight.

However, their dynamic wasn't really built for frigidity, and he certainly refused to play along.

_And when two lovers woo_

_They still say I love you_

_On that you can rely_

_No matter what the future brings_

_As time goes by_

He questioned her decision, vocally. He questioned her about what she'd said, though she remained tight-lipped about the entire event. He told her he loved her.

He soon realized that it was no use. She's made her decision very clear; she wasn't letting him in anymore. She was going to ignore whatever feelings she may have, whatever feelings he may have, and go on with her life - which, it seemed, no longer included him.

She was friendly when she spoke to him. She kept up the pretense of their playful banter and friendship, asked him how his week was going and what he thought of the most recent headlines. There was something lacking, however; it all rang of "for appearance's sake".

_Moonlight and love songs, Never out of date_

_Hearts of full of passion, Jealousy and hate_

_Woman needs man, and man must have his mate_

_That no one can deny_

Time wore on, and slowly the pretense dropped. Encounters were filled less with rapid-fire words used to ease tension, and more with heavy glances and tight expressions. The bare minimum of communication, and a wealth of things to be communicated lurking behind it.

People talked. "What happened with those two? There was always something going on with them, I'll tell you."

Not even their closest friends knew what had happened. Donna started up the story that when he'd heard of the opening, Josh had referred her, wanting her to spread her wings a little. Josh corroborated this upon hearing it; however, he withdrew noticeably each time it was mentioned. He worked more. He laughed less.

Donna worked less. She laughed more. It was with a skittish and false hyper-happiness that she interacted with people, keeping conversation superficial or work-related. She'd tell anyone who'd listen about her wedding. She didn't talk much about the groom.

The phrase used was that they "grew" apart, but in reality... Both of them shrank.

_It's still the same old story_

_A fight for love and glory_

_A case of do or die_

_The world will always welcome lovers_

_As time goes by..._

"Bartender? Another."

The bartender furrows his brow at the man before him, whom he'd given his first drink to not one minute previously. He takes his proffered glass.

"Well, you finished that off quickly."

"I'm on a mission."

"Yeah?"

"I'm getting hammered tonight."

The bartender laughs. "It's a common cause here, man. What's got you spending the night with me?"

"Well..." Josh squints at the man's name tag as he pours him a second bourbon. "...Rick, I've got a problem."

Rick raises his eyebrows as he passes him the drink. "So I've gathered."

"I'm in love, Rick."

"Ah. Right. Yeah, you've got the look of one of those sorry blokes about you."

"_Sorry_?"

"Yeah. She dump you?"

"Worse than that, Rick." He swills his bourbon sagely. "She's getting married in two months."

"Not to you, I'll assume?"

Josh screws up his face and downs the remainder of the glass before slamming it on the bar. "To some jackass named Scott, actually."

"Tough break. Another?"

"You read my mind." He props one elbow up on the counter and rests his forehead in his palm, attempting to refrain from groaning. "And could you change the fucking radio station? I hate this song."

Rick laughs and obliges, fiddling with the dial until _As Time Goes By_ plays no more.

Josh executes his mission, and is drunk before long. Rick asks the right amount of questions, and listens to his increasingly incoherent ramblings as the night progresses. Given his delicate system, Josh is "hammered" in forty five minutes. Rick casually switches to water at this point, Josh being too out of it to notice.

Around midnight, he staggers out of the bar to wait for the cab Rick had called for him. Even if he'd wanted to drive, he wouldn't have been able to find his car in his current state. After what feels like an eternity of waiting, Josh pulls out his phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen.

_You know what I should do? I should call her... Tell her all this... Tell her that I love her._

_Wait! No. I can't do that. That'd be so pathetic! I know what I should do. I should call her, and make her realize what a sad and lonely wreck she's turned me into... That'd show her... Women like broken men, no?_

_Waaaaiiiit. That's even worse! What am I thinking. I can't call her. I. Can't. Call. Her. Goddamn, why is my thumb pressing that button? Whatthefuck. That's the number one. Oh. She's still on speed dial. Fuckfuckfuck I should take her off speed dial. This is just pathetic. But I mean...it's not like I'll move on. Just die alone, probably... Tortured old soul that they write novels about... FUCKFUCKFUCK it's ringing? What? I didn't call her?_

_Okay...Well... I'll just...see if she answers._

_If she does, I mean... I'll just say hi. I'll just say hi, or... shitshit she isn't answering whatthefuck?_

"Hello?"

"Okay. Woe. Okay. You answered. Damn. Look look umm, here's the thing. I think I was calling to say hi or something? But since I've got you on the line, you know, why bother with formalities? I'm sayin', since we don't talk in person anymore, might as well say all the stuff I... The things I never... Look. I know you're trying to move on and everything, and cut me off, but that's just not fair. It's not fair to me, and it isn't fair to you either, and you know that, you know? You can't cut someone off because you love them. In what realm is that gonna make anyone happy? I miss you. God, I really fucking miss you. And I still love you. Sorry. Your strategy isn't working. And I'd turn up at your apartment and tell you all this shit and yell at your roommate's cats like I used to, and throw snowballs, ya know... if it was snowing... and if you didn't live with _him_ now instead. I don't think he's got cats. Doesn't seem the type. Okay, whatever, sorry. That's not important. What's important is that I love you, and that you're being pretty irrational right now, but I guess I love you anyway? I mean, yeah. Damn, that's just not_ fair_. Okay. There."

"...What in the hell, Josh?" A tired and audibly angry voice snarls at him from the other end of the line.

His eyes widen in shock and terror. Oh god.

He'd pressed speed dial number_ two_.

"Umm, CJ?"

"I'm going to go ahead and assume that wasn't intended for me?"

"What? No, no... It was... I love you, CJ, you know that."

"You're so drunk."

"Am not. I'm totally... I'm honestly... Damn, I can't think of the word for sober."

"Where are you? I'll come pick you up."

"No no no, I can drive." That's what he was doing out here, right? Looking for his car?

"You absolutely cannot drive." CJ is wide awake now, and worried. "_Do not drive_. Just wait for me, okay, idiot boy? I'll be there in... Where are you?"

"That bar on 74th."

"You mean 47th?"

"Mm. Probably."

"Fifteen. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Donna wakes slowly, blinking several times in the darkness. She still can't seem to think of this as her bedroom. Irritably, she shoves Scott's arm off of her midsection and sits up. Her phone is ringing.

Taking a moment to locate it, she scrambles to the edge of the bed and reaches for the nightstand.

"Mm?" Scott mumbles drowsily.

"Sorry, sweetie. I'll get it." Who would be calling her in the middle of the night? With her new position, not only were her hours much more manageable, but she didn't normally have to worry about calls like this. Out of the President's direct line of sudden need, her day was much more predictable.

It's a deeply ingrained sense of duty that causes her to answer.

"Hello?"

"_Donna... Moss_." Her name is drawn out slowly on the other end of the phone. "Well, whaddya know?"

Donna's brow furrows. "Umm, you called me, CJ?"

"Donna, there is an incredibly drunk man on my couch."

"...Wild night?" She replies groggily.

"He's professing his love for you."

"Do tell me it's Matt Damon."

"Donna."

Donna takes a deep breath. "I don't know what you're getting at here, CJ."

"Why didn't you tell me, Donna?"

"Why didn't I... CJ, it wasn't-" Donna lowers her voice hurriedly, casting a glance at the sleeping Scott behind her.

"That's why you quit? That's why you couldn't work for him anymore?"

"...Yes."

"You should've told me, Donna. I'm your first phone call."

Donna feels indignation swell inside of her. "CJ, I was handling it the best that I could! Not a word of it reached the press, there was not the slightest hint of impropriety, and I don't need a press secretary to tell me how to-"

"Not because I'm the press secretary, Donna." CJ interrupts, softer now. "Because I'm your friend."

A sense of shame washes over her. She hadn't payed much thought to her friends at all recently. "CJ, I'm sorry."

"No... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you this late, it's just... I was so pissed. And I had to go pick him up, and I'm tired, and I guess I wanted someone to share in the misery."

Donna worries her lip. "Is... Is he okay?"

CJ pauses. "Not really."

"He's not-"

"He'll be fine, physically. But let's just say you've done quite a number on him."

"CJ..."

"It's not your fault. It's not your fault. This was going to come down around us one way or another, and I... Look, I'm sorry that this is how it had to happen. But sometimes that's just how it goes."

"I should've told you."

"I should've asked." CJ replies sadly. "I knew something was wrong, I just..."

"So we've both been a tad negligent."

"That's fair. What do you say we talk it over in the morning, okay? Once I take care of Josh."

"You will... Take care of him?"

"I'll do my best. Come by my office around eleven?"

"That sounds good."

"Alright. Get some sleep."

"You too." She flips her phone shut, heart thudding in off-beat staccato. She feels strangely guilty, as though she'd been found out, but also... Liberated. This was no longer her weight, alone, to bear. She could breathe an inch under the burden, knowing that CJ was taking care of things. CJ always knew what to do; or acted like it, at least. And right now, she could use as much surety as possible. She had none of her own to be found, these days.

She lowers herself slowly back onto the pillows.

"What was that about?" Scott murmurs.

Donna doesn't turn to face him, staring at the opposite wall. "Work."

XxXxXxXxXXXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxxXxXxXxXxxXxXxXXxXxXxXxXxX

Josh's head is filled with cotton. It had been filled with cotton, and then rolled down a hill. Then, perhaps, it had been mistaken for a soccer ball by several schoolchildren, and kicked around for a good hour. And now, just as it had come to a steady halt on a nice cool surface, there came a sound like artillery. Slow motion artillery, that is.

"Josh."

No. Just footsteps. He groans by way of response.

"Josh, sit up."

He opens his eyes blearily, craning his neck to look up from his desk. "Hey."

"Hey yourself. Sit up."

He's too tired to question her presence. He leans back in his chair, soothed by the sound of her voice.

"You shouldn't have come in this morning, Josh. It's Saturday, you could've slept."

"CJ, umm. Wanted to keep an eye on me."

"That was smart of her."

"Why're... Umm, you're here on a Saturday." He's sure that he meant to form a question with those words, but gathers that he didn't quite manage it.

"I had a meeting." She says softly, avoiding his gaze. "Here, lean forward."

"Why?" He murmurs, obeying anyway. He registers a sudden cool relief on the back of his throbbing head, as well as the way her hand brushes his face.

"I brought you an ice pack."

"Why?"

"The back of your head hurts."

"How'd you know that?" He has little trouble forming questions, now.

She sighs and removes her hand, forcing him to replace it with his own. "I dealt with your hangovers for six years, Josh. You think I don't know what they entail?"

"Mm. Right." He's having trouble keeping his eyes open, but makes the effort so as to examine her expression. There isn't much to read.

"Which is how I also know that you dry swallowed three aspirin when you first woke up, and are now both dehydrated and nauseous."

"I am?"

To his surprise, she smiles slightly. "I brought you some water, some black coffee and a bagel. Drink the water, then eat, then drink the coffee."

"Missing me yet?"

"Oh, only every day." She replies.

"Yeah?" He knows that she had meant it sarcastically, but he likes to think there's a bit of truth to her statement.

"Josh?"

He squints as the lighting in his office shifts. It takes him a moment to realize that it's because she's blocked it, moving to take a seat on his desk. The light creates a false halo around her head, and he could almost laugh at the symbolism.

"Mm?"

"Please don't drink on my account."

He closes his eyes again. He can't bear to meet hers, wide and concerned. "I wasn't."

"CJ told me-"

"And if I was, what does it matter to you? You're happy. You cut me off, remember? Out of sight, out of mind. I'm not your problem anymore. You're better off for it, I'm sure. Happier, aren't you?"

He keeps his eyes shut adamantly, but hears a slight sigh.

"No, Josh."

"No, what?"

"No, I'm not happier."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"But to your other statement... yes."

"Yes, you're better off?"

When she doesn't reply immediately, he opens his eyes hesitantly to find her shaking her head.

"Yes, you're my problem. You'll always be my problem."

He chuckles. "That's nice of you."

She gives him a wry smile. "You'll always be my problem, and I'm sorry that I'm yours."

Tiredly, he grabs the glass of water she'd brought him, and raises it to her before taking a sip. "That's fair enough."

She purses her lips, watching him with evident worry. "Will you be okay if I leave?"

"I think I'll manage."

She nods. "Okay." After a slight pause, she reaches out to readjust the ice pack on his head, which had fallen down under his slackening grip. As she draws her hand back, she halts a moment to touch the side of his face gently. "Okay."

She stands and whisks herself out of his office, with hardly enough time for him to blink. Closing the door behind her, she leaves the room bathed in darkness once more. He could almost laugh at the symbolism.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

"And, I'm not kidding, he was playing golf! The one issue his constituents give a shit about, and he misses the vote to drink Arnold Palmer and soak up the sun. Feeling satisfied with your tax dollars, yet?" Donna looks up expectantly, a sarcastic smile in place. A dull thrum of rain fills what would've been the subsequent silence. It's pouring, outside.

"Mm? Oh. Yeah. Completely." Scott hardly looks up from his food, shoveling the takeout he'd brought home into his mouth.

Donna's fork stills, watching his downcast eyes. "Are you... Are you listening to me?"

"Course I am."

"Am I perhaps boring you?"

He looks up for the first time, probably, since she began delivering updates on the current events she'd been on about all week. He doesn't look embarrassed at his inattentiveness. Instead, she's almost sure that he's irritated with her. "Look, Donna, you really care about your job. And that's great. But you can't expect me to be deeply invested in the minutiae of it, alright?"

She narrows her eyes. "I wasn't... It's not the minutiae. I'm talking about an important vote, which happens to affect most people who-"

"Okay. I'm sorry. You're right."

If anything, this irks her further. He hadn't even bothered to listen to her defense. "Is there something you'd rather talk about, Scott?"

"Oh... I don't know."

"How was your day today?"

"Ah, you don't want to hear about that."

"I just asked, didn't I?"

"Look, can we just leave work at work? I don't wanna drag this stuff home, I don't..."

She huffs indignantly. "I was just asking about your _day_."

"By all means, keep going on about Congress."

"I'm not... I wasn't _going on_-"

"You're right. I'm sorry."

Did he have anything of a spine? How did he manage in court? "You should be able to talk to me about the things that are happening at work, Scott."

"I'm telling you. It's boring, and you're better off."

"Don't you... Don't you _care_ about what's happening?"

"I guess, yeah."

"You _guess_?"

Scott throws up his hands, as though feeling attacked. "I don't want to fight this with you, okay?"

"You never want to fight anything with me." She mutters irritably, moving her Hibachi around her plate limply.

"What was that?"

"You never want conflict. We talk current events, you bob your head and agree with me. Politics, same deal. We start to argue, you fucking _bob your head_-"

He leans back in his chair, folding his arms. "I don't see what your problem is. So I agree with you. Isn't it nice? To have such an... amicable partner, for once?"

She sighs. If he was attempting to guilt her, it was working. "All I'm saying is... I'm just wondering if you care. If you're so willing to let everything go, I'm just wondering if you really care about any of this stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Any of the stuff you agree with me on."

"...Is there much we disagree on?"

"Exactly!" She leans forward, gesturing pointedly with her hands. "Look, you never get into discussions, you never challenge what I'm saying, you never even try to understand my point of view, you just..."

"I trust your judgment."

"Do you have any of your own?"

"That's not fair, Donna." He mutters, standing and taking his plate to the kitchen. "That's not fair."

She purses her lips. "Poverty. Human rights. Immigration. Wealth distribution. Gay marriage. The people who sit in the fucking White House, on the hill, the places _where I work_, do you care about any of that? Can you honestly tell me that you agree with me on every inch of policy, of politics, can you even tell me where I stand? Do you_ listen_ as you bob your head?"

He doesn't look at her, running a hand across his forehead. He speaks softly. "Where is all this coming from, Donna?"

_It's coming from my god-awful day today. It's coming from a conversation with CJ in which she repeatedly told me that I was right to do what I felt most strongly about. It's coming from the storm outside that feels like it's been brewing for months. It's coming from the fact that a warm bed and a body beside me doesn't spell out love. It's coming from the wish that I'd been drunk dialed last night, that I'd heard I love you from the one person I never wanted to need this badly._

She clenches her jaw, wishing that she was nicer. "What do you _care_ about, Scott?"

He looks up at her, seizing on the question. "Donna, I care about you."

This doesn't melt her. It doesn't quell her anger, it doesn't chip at her icy demeanor. "Do you? If you don't care about any of the things that matter to me, that make me who I... Do you even know me?"

"Know you? Donna, you sound crazy. I love you. I love you, I want to marry you, whatever your passions, and quirks-"

"Whatever? Don't you mean in spite of?"

"Look, Donna, I can't keep up with you on this stuff, okay? I can't be bothered to know about all of the things you do, and what's the point in fighting it if I've got nothing? I don't live this stuff, okay? I don't eat, sleep, and breathe rights, or freedom, or the good of the people, I don't have that kind of fire. I'm not you, I'm not Josh, this isn't what I've chosen to-"

"What did you say?" She asks tightly.

"Hm?" He looks up, thrown off by her interjection. "I said, this isn't what I've-"

"Before that."

"I said I'm not Josh, Donna. I don't throw myself into the issues. I don't have the drive to debate everything over with you, I don't have the kind of passion that-"

_Boom_. There's a window-rattling thunder clap, and their power shuts off abruptly. Scott looks around in the sudden pitch-black of his apartment. By the time the back-up generator kicks in, Donna is gone. And he's still not sure what he'd done.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Josh had always loved the sound of rain. He found it reassuring, the steady patter, punctuated occasionally by a crack of thunder. In his opinion, cacophony was far preferable to silence. He thrived in chaos, but silence... Silence was unnerving. It was always charged with suspense. It was perpetual waiting; pent up energy never coming to pass.

He liked the rain. He liked that release of the laboring sky, the clearing of tension. He liked the downpour. It put him at ease.

On the couch, tired from his day of working through a hangover, he lies still on his back. He closes his eyes, and he listens.

_Crack._

He opens his eyes, unsure if what he'd just heard was a part of the storm. It had been eerily close. He blinks in the darkness, dubious as to whether he'd seen the telltale strike of lightning.

_Bang. Bang._

No. That was most certainly not thunder. Someone was knocking - no, pounding - on his door. He sits up.

_Bang. _

He rubs at his eyes blearily. What the hell did they want? Were they perhaps being pursued by a mob? He stands irritably and shuffles to his door, praying silently that his elderly neighbor wouldn't be on the other side, begging to know why her power was out.

The banging ceases a moment before he turns the handle. Opening the door cautiously, he's caught off guard.

Standing in the darkened hallway, sopping wet, is Donna Moss. She has yet to notice that the door has opened, and is instead digging madly through her purse. After a moment, she holds up something triumphantly, and given the dim glinting, he realizes that it's her keys. It's then that she sees him.

She pauses, eyes wide. "Oh. Hi."

He looks from her nervous smile, to the keys in her hand. "Were you about to... Break in?"

"I... Umm..." She looks down at the keys as well. "Well, wouldn't really be forcing entry, you know, I've got the... I've got your key."

He nods, utterly bewildered, as she holds it up. "That which you do."

"I just figured, you know, if you weren't home, I'd just... Let myself in. And wait for you."

"Why are you here?" He blurts suddenly. He hadn't meant to sound accusatory, but the question causes her to look more flustered than ever.

"Well, Umm..." She continues to take short, quick breaths, facial expression flitting between an anxious smile and a look of contemplation. Her brow furrows briefly. "I just..."

_Crack._

At the next thunder clap, it appears she's made up her mind. No longer do her shoulders shake, moving up and down with each shallow breath. They are still, and squared. Her arms fall to her sides, expression determined. In the darkness, her eyes appear almost to flash as she moves forward suddenly.

She kisses him.

It is not, in the least, a gentle gesture. It is not timid, or soft, as one might expect of a first kiss. It is determined. Her hands find his shoulders, pushing against him. There is little room for reaction on his part, but he thinks his reciprocation is almost unconscious. They tumble into his dark apartment, and he hears the door slam.

He shouldn't let her in.

He knows this. He knows this, even as he holds onto her, as he responds in kind. He knows that he shouldn't let this happen. He shouldn't be okay with her showing up, late at night and unannounced, to fling herself upon him. He shouldn't let it make up for the months of misery, he shouldn't happily grab at whatever scraps of affection she haphazardly throws his way.

He shouldn't be okay with this silence. He should want to speak, to ask why she's here. To ask why she wasn't wearing her engagement ring, to know what it is that she really wants.

He should want this to go differently. He should want this to be slower, and worth savoring. He should want to hear her say that she loves him, and that that won't change come morning.

But as wet clothes find the floor, he finds himself dropping these things as well. Because all he can feel is_ finally_.

And he knows. He knows that he'll make due. He knows that he will find love in whatever she throws his way, be it soft-spoken words or hard-hitting punches. He will find the time in these split seconds to take it slow, to paint the scene as romantic. Because, what else can he do?

Because she was always going to feel it necessary to break down the door.

And he was always going to have let her in, anyway.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxxxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**Alright, guys, how am I doing? Thanks for reading :)**


End file.
